Iron Crown
by DuAnn Cowart
Summary: Post Issue 12 Authority Fic


Disclaimers: The Authority and all associated characters 

belong to DC/Wildstorm and were created by Warren Ellis and 

Bryan Hitch. I am not receiving any economic benefit from 

this work. Buy this book. It's a fun read.   
  


Author's Note: AUTHORITY 13 SPOILERS. This is primarily 

written without the benefit of Issue 13 and only polished 

with information from that storyline. Most of it was just 

extrapolated from what I gleaned from interviews and a 

small online preview. I was still fairly precognitive, 

dangit, even though I *didn't* post this in time to look 

that way. ;)   
  


Feedback would be wonderful, and can be sent to:   
  


ibelieve@rocketmail.com   
  


This one's for Grym.   
  
  
  


Iron Crown 1/1   
  
  
  
  
  


"HAWKSMOOR!"   
  


The radiotelepathic shout reverberated through the quiet of 

the night, jolting the recipient of the message out of the 

peaceful repose of hard-won slumber. Powerful legs 

instinctively kicked aside thin cotton sheets as the tall 

sleeper shot up abruptly, still groggy after only a scant 

few hours rest. Jack Hawksmoor, guardian of the cities and 

new leader of the Authority scrambled to his feet, eyes 

glowing red in the dim night lighting of his quarters.   
  


"Midnighter? Report!" His usually gravelly voice was even 

thicker with sleep, but even as he spoke one bare arm was 

immediately reaching for the black suit neatly folded on 

the chest beside his bed.   
  


There was no answer.   
  


"Midnighter? What's wrong?" Jack struggled into his 

clothing, then fumbled with the zipper of his everpresent 

dark slacks, usually nimble fingers still clumsy with 

sleep.   
  


"We need you in the Control Room. There's a little matter. 

. . with a camera crew." The Midnighter spat out the words 

as if they stung, and Jack could almost visualize the other 

man's masked visage twisting in a grimace.   
  


Jack paused, one arm raised high above his head, white 

shirt tangled over his head. "A *U.N.* camera crew?" Jack 

asked, worry clouding his features. 'That's all I need 

right now, some bastard from the Secretary General's office 

trying to come do some impromptu inspection.'   
  


"No." His teammate hurried to correct him. "No, it's not 

the U.N. Just a television news Crew. That. Won't. Leave." 

Disdain and frustration dripped from the dark man's voice.   
  


It was all Jack could do not to sputter as he rapidly 

pulled the shirt over his bare chest. "A television crew. 

You're up anyway, can't you handle it? After all, you're 

the bloody *MIDNIGHTER*."   
  


The answer was a single, resounding "NO."   
  


Jack sighed. "Midnighter, do you know how 

many damn interviews and television shows and magazine 

photojournalists we deal with every day?" Jack drew in a 

deep breath. "Of course you do," He answered himself 

blearily. "Stupid question. But what's so damn special 

about this one that you can't handle it and let me sleep?"   
  


There was a long, awkward pause. "It's not as simple as 

that. You'll understand when you get here." The frustration 

and anger in the Midnighter's growl was enough to convince 

Jack.   
  


The other man had dealt surprisingly well with all the 

publicity the Authority's recent change in direction had 

elicted, but apparantly he too had his limits. Whatever 

this was had to be particularly tricky, and the Midnighter 

was many things, but he was not a diplomat.   
  


Jack put his hands flat against the wall of the Carrier, 

wishing as he had so many times that it was a true city to 

commune with. The Carrier was large enough to sustain him, 

give him life, but it could not truly express the joys and 

sorrows his own cities shared with him. Jack banged his 

head gently against the wall, considering his options.   
  


One. Crawl back in bed and sleep. 'Yeah, and have the 

Midnighter go ballistic on some poor unsuspecting 

television reporter and have to do spin control for the 

next six months. Heh. The U.N. would have a field day with 

that one.'   
  


Two. Have someone else do it. 'That'd certainly endear me 

to my teammates, and it's the middle of the night for 

Jackson and Christine, too.'   
  


Three. Go down and deal with whatever the situation was 

himself. 'Shit.' He hit his head lightly against the cool 

metal of the Carrier, sensing her odd amusement at his 

behavior. It almost made him smile.   
  


In a terse voice, he told the Midnighter. "Entertain them 

for a few minutes and I'll be right down."   
  


The Midnighter's relief was almost palpable. "Good. I don't 

know how much longer I can-"   
  


Jack exhaled sharply. "Midnighter, dammit, be nice to them 

for another few minutes. The last thing we need is bad 

publicity right now."   
  


"But Jack-" There was more than a hint of petulance in the 

words.   
  


"Do it." He cut off the link before the other man could 

protest, murmuring silent imprecations to himself.   
  


'He handle it a few minutes longer. If I go out there in 

this mood, I'll cause more damage than I'll avert.' Jack 

flung his suit coat to the floor and fell on the bed with a 

sigh, head thrown back to stare blankly up at the wired 

metal ceiling. Lying spread eagled across the rumpled 

covers, he ran a square hand through close-cropped receding 

hair, trying his best to smooth its spiky locks.   
  


Jack drew in a deep breath, then punched the bed in 

frustration. The small physical release felt good, and Jack 

repeated the motion several times before burrowing deeper 

into the warm covers. He savored the rapidly fading heat 

for another moment before rising regretfully, pacing the 

length of his spacious quarters.   
  


He glanced back at the bed longingly, then turned to study 

his reflection in an oval mirror Angie had insisted he hang 

on his wall. The rugged face that stared back at him was 

haggard, with dark circles rimming tired eyes and deep care 

lines creasing his brow.   
  


'Shit, I'm one ugly bastard. And this is supposed to be the 

face of a superstar.' He snorted in something akin to 

disgust, then yawned. 'Damn, I need more sleep.'   
  


His physical adaptations and communion with the cities 

helped a great deal, but augmented or not, he was still 

human. Even he required sleep, and that commodity had been 

increasingly more difficult to come by ever since he'd 

taken up the reins of leadership following the death of 

Jenny Sparks.   
  


Jack shook his head. 'How the hell did I let myself get 

roped into this?' He sat back down on the edge of his bed, 

remembering the events of the last few months.   
  


After Jenny's death, the team had been devastated. They had 

lost their friend, their leader, the vision behind their 

union. The Authority had been her creation, after all, her 

defiant answer to a world that refused to play by her 

rules. Jenny had worn leadership so easily and well that 

her shoes had seemed almost impossible to fill.   
  


He'd been the only one surprised when the team unanimously 

appointed him to the task.   
  


Bearing Jenny's final words in mind, he'd led the Authority 

to a fateful decision. Despite some reservations, the team 

decided to no longer focus on threats from external foes 

while evil flourished on Earth. Staring at the planet from 

the safety of the Carrier, it was all too easy to forget 

the individuals who lived below and only concentrate on 

threats from without, not those from within.   
  


They'd all seen so much it was easy not to think of the 

millions of people suffering everyday. They'd all allowed 

themselves to forget what they were fighting for, and it 

was with no small amount of shame that the members of the 

Authority acknowledged this to themselves.   
  


With the awesome power at their disposal, they couldn't 

allow such inhumanity to continue. After all, Shen had 

reasoned, cancer killed a body as easily as an axe did. 

Jack hadn't needed to see the glint in her eyes to know she 

was thinking of her parents, murdered in political coup so 

long ago. 

So, in typical Authority fashion, the team had actively 

begun to take an aggressive role their planet's politics, 

and in doing so had won global acclaim and a place in the 

public eye. An intervention here, a carefully orchestrated 

rescue mission there, and all of a sudden The Authority 

became serious news. As Jenny had planned, saving the 

world-repeatedly, and letting them *know* about it- had 

already made the entire world more than kindly disposed to 

them.   
  


It hadn't taken much more to make them full-fledged 

celebrities. One well-placed media blitz later and the 

public went Authority-crazy. The team was attractive, shiny 

and dramatic, and cameras adored them. All of a sudden, 

people began listening when The Authority spoke.   
  


It made doing good a hell of a lot easier.   
  


Even so, it had been easier for some members of the team to 

adapt to public life than others. Apollo and Angie, for 

example- Jack smiled fondly- had taken to the flashbulbs 

like ducks to water, and Shen, of course, had maneuvered 

through the mess with her usual grace, and he'd struggled 

through as best he could. It'd hadn't been so easy for the 

others. The Midnighter and the Doctor had proven 

notoriously difficult to deal with.   
  


'Which might explain why I'm not fast asleep right now,' 

Jack shook his head, thick fingers idly playing with the 

material of his blanket. 'He's been doing so well, but I 

suppose some of those jackals are enough to try the 

patience of a saint. Midnighter's no saint.'   
  


He winced, remembering some of the more personal questions 

he and his team had been subjected to. It had been 

especially difficult in the early days not so long ago. 

None of them had no diplomatic training, no experience in 

dealing with the media *or* the U.N. It was a miracle their 

plan hadn't failed in its infancy.   
  


Jack smiled fondly, remembering the wonderful support and 

assistance the cities had given him in his task, guiding 

him towards the areas where their help was most needed, 

providing him opportunities to show the world exactly what 

The Authority could- and would- do. His cities- at their 

very mention a feeling of warmth and well-being swept 

through him, wiping away the last traces of grogginess and 

irritation at being awoken from bed.   
  


Their approval at his team's course of action had finally 

wiped away all the lingering sense of guilt he felt at 

leaving them to work for the greater good, first with 

StormWatch, then with The Authority. He even felt absolved 

from a faint sense of betrayal at spending so much time 

aboard the Carrier so far from the cities of his home.   
  


He was guardian and protector of the cities, and now he was 

finally in a position to do them some real good. They 

recognized what he was doing and encouraged him, flowing 

warmth and support to give him the strength he needed to 

both deal with the media and the U.N. and to still continue 

their real work. The cities knew what he was doing, and 

they loved him for it. 'Go on,' they seemed to say in the 

worldless murmur that only he could understand. 'This is 

important. We can handle ourselves while you help heal us 

all.'   
  


He'd needed that support to deal with the barrage of 

problems their new path had created. Glossy magazine covers 

or not, the U.N. was in quite an uproar over the 

Authority's new direction. Instead of just a fifty-mile 

long home for seven- or six, now- human beings, the Carrier 

had become a place of refuge, a temporary sanctuary for 

human beings seeking political asylum.   
  


That, along with the team's pro-active response to 

politics, had political ramifications that created such a 

tangled knot of international relations that governments, 

quite simply, were at a loss as to how to proceed. Even 

though the Carrier had been portioned off, with the 

Authority theoretically having little to no contact with 

the refugees, it was not unusual for Jack to be interrupted 

at all hours by the U.N. liasons appointed to deal with the 

refugees, or more unpleasantly, world leaders calling to 

threaten or cajole the team into backing away.   
  


'It's either politicians or the media. One's as bad as the 

other,' Jack thought ruefully, rotating his shoulders to 

stretch tired muscles. 'I never thought I'd say it, but 

maybe I *am* glad it's just a camera crew tonight.'   
  


Formal negotiations had not been, to put it bluntly, a 

simple matter. As a foundational details, the U.N. and its 

member states were at a loss as to how to treat The 

Authority. The Carrier was not a state, per se; even though 

it in theory satisfied the geographic requirements of 

statehood, the Authority simply didn't have the permanent 

population and legislative resources to sustain that status 

and could not be treated as such.   
  


However, with the team's awesome resources and the 

tremendous good will of the world populace, the Authority 

still had a bit more leverage than the average run of the 

mill non-governmental organization. Even so, there had 

still been talk of treating the Authority as a terroristic 

group, but strong lobbying by organizations such as the Red 

Cross and Amnesty International had combined with the 

Authority's new found celebrity to buy enough time to deal 

with the issues as they arose. The team chose to exercise 

this considerable leeway by continuing to wipe out petty 

tyranny across the globe.   
  


It hadn't been easy. Christine and Jackson had done their 

best to help with the situation, but despite their best 

intentions to the contrary Jack's attention had been 

increasingly required as of late. And that was on top of 

the pressures of leading the team.   
  


'I don't know how she did it,' Jack thought morosely, 

feeling as always the pang of loss which always accompanied 

any thought of the late Jenny Sparks, his teammate and very 

dear friend. 'She made this look so easy.'   
  


One side of his mouth lifted in a small smile. 'The first 

time one of those smarmy aides starting quoting treaty law 

to her or one of those psuedojournalist asked about her sex 

life she would have given them a jolt straight up the ass, 

and that would have been the end of that.' He laughed 

aloud, thinking of Jenny Sparks striking a sultry pose for 

a fashion magazine. 'Nah, maybe it's a good thing she's not 

here after all.'   
  


Thinking of Jenny, as always, reminded him of the huge 

responsibility of leadership she had left him. Jack rapidly 

sobered. The Authority- and by extension, the world- now 

answered to him. It was a heavy crown to bear.   
  


*He* was leader of the Authority. The Midnighter had awoken 

*him* out of his sleep tonight, and even through his 

irritation Jack had been heartened by the confidence in the 

other man's dour voice.   
  


Two months ago this man had been his equal, his teammate, 

but now Jack bore the responsibility for his life. Whatever 

he ordered, within reason, the other man would do. It was 

power, pure and simple, and he knew very well how dangerous 

it could be. He'd seen the results of power corrupted first 

hand.   
  


The Changers.   
  


Bendix.   
  


Rose Tattoo.   
  


Jack felt a familiar wave of sorrow pass through him, and 

he shook his head resolutely. There would be no Bendix this 

time. *He* was no Bendix, that was for damn sure. Like 

Jenny, he would not allow the monsters to win. *His* team 

would not decay from within, would not twist and warp until 

it was unrecognizable as a force for good. As Shen had 

said, he'd changed, they all had, but life was still a 

treasure. And he was still, above all things, a guardian 

and protector of life in all its forms.   
  


Midnighter. Apollo. The Doctor. Shen.   
  


Angie. His cities. They had faith in him, they believed he 

was equal to the huge task that loomed ahead. They had 

faith that he, Jack Hawksmoor, little boy lost, would take 

care of them all.   
  


He closed gritty eyes wearily, then opened them wide. 

Whatever the price, whatever the cost, he'd pay it gladly. 

He wouldn't let them down. There was too much riding on it.   
  


Be it an entertainment magazine or the Security Council, 

Third-World dicators or even something as relatively minor 

as an interstellar invasion, Jack Hawksmoor and the 

Authority would stand firm.   
  


They had to. They had to make the world a better place. 

Jenny had said so.   
  


With that bittersweet thought in mind, Jack squared his 

shoulders and walked forward into whatever was waiting in 

the limelight.   
  
  
  


Fin.   
  
  
  


=====   
  


-DuAnn   
  
  
  


Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the 

world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be 

troubled and do not be afraid. 

-John 14:27 


End file.
